


fill you in

by lilysweetdreams



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, spoilers for episode 26
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilysweetdreams/pseuds/lilysweetdreams
Summary: For the second time in his short life, Mollymauk Tealeaf clawed his way out of his own grave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the infinite possible ways to love you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927606) by [Meridas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/pseuds/Meridas). 

> i am in denial, so i write fic. inspired by a great fic by meridas which healed my heart. title from 'fill you in' by josh pyke.

Darkness.

Cloying, heavy, bitter darkness.

And then pressure and pain and he couldn’t _breathe_.

Broken fingernails scrabbled at the heavy clods of dirt. He couldn’t tell which way was up. He opened his mouth to take a breath and soil filled it, choking him. The darkness was eating him whole. His heart thumped in his ribcage and his lungs felt like they were about to burst. Panic roared through his mind drowning out any sense. He beat his hands against the dark, he kicked and strained. Something dragged across his palm and a line of pain followed it. Blood welled up in the cut, and with renewed strength he struck out. Something gave under his hand. He struck again, putting all of his strength into the blow. A sliver of grey sky opened in front of him. He strove towards it.

For the second time in his short life, Mollymauk Tealeaf clawed his way out of his own grave.

He worked on instinct and a half remembered nightmare. It may have been only minutes, but time stretched and distorted around him as he went. Years and seconds dragged by as he fought free. Nothing around him changed. No one bore witness to his rebirth. He slumped against the piled earth, tear tracks cutting paths through the mud on his face.

It was a long time before his mind was clear enough to assess his surroundings. Soft white snow blanketed the landscape, muffling all sound. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing. Snow was bad, he knew. Snow concealed paths and ate fingers. Snow burned in your lungs and killed you slowly.

The sun was in the sky, though he could not tell if it was rising or setting. The landscape was alien to him; the snow had transformed it and his memory of the area had not been great to begin with. He’d been preoccupied at the time, he thought. He didn’t know how he knew that. 

Something pale fluttered into his lap. A piece of paper, yellowed and slightly damp had dislodged from its resting place over his heart. It was cleaner than the rest of him, protected by his shirt from the soil. He pawed at it with useless numb fingers, before he managed to unfold the scrap. Black writing, angular and jagged, adorned the surface. The ink ran in places and the page bore spots of water damage but it was still legible. He deciphered it with agonising slowness, his trembling fingers not aiding the process.

_Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf._

_You died fighting for your friends. If, by some miracle, you come back again, look for the Mighty Nein. Find the Evening Nip in Zadash. Tell them you come bearing many gifts and ask for the Gentleman._

_Find us._

_The Mighty Nein  
Caleb, Nott, Beauregard, Jester, Fjord and Yasha._

His name was Mollymauk Tealeaf. 

Emotions and sensations flooded his brain, not memories but the shadows of them. He drank hard liquor but didn’t actually like the taste. He got hot at night if he didn’t sleep with an arm or a tail out from under the covers. He hated bananas but loved cherries. He had friends whom he loved very much. 

He could not picture their faces.

Caleb, Nott, Beauregard, Jester, Fjord, Yasha. Those were the names in the letter. They felt familiar on his tongue when he whispered them aloud. They pulled up phantom sensations; an arm around his shoulders, hands in his hair, an ache in his stomach from laughing too hard. He chased the feelings desperate for more, but nothing came. He slammed a fist into the earth at his side. Every time he got close to an answer it slipped away.

There was nothing to do about that. For now, he was freezing and filthy and lying in the dirt of his own grave. He pulled his legs free, wincing as rocks and sticks tore holes in his leggings and dragged over his numb skin. A heavy cloth slid from around him as he did. It looked like it had once been a brilliant tapestry. With the mud maring its surface, he could barely make out the dragon motif in the centre.

He glanced around. Beside the disturbed earth of his grave, a flash of red caught his eye. A maroon coat, with colourful symbols embroidered on the panels. It was caught around the end of a branch, the shoulders damp with snow. He crawled over to it and pulled it around himself. This too was familiar. Something about it felt like armour, a shell to protect him from the outside world. It was lined with soft silk. The sensation of it drawing over his skin transfixed him momentarily, before the harsh wind encouraged him to pull it on fully. It settled on a back that was slightly straighter than before. 

Mollymauk shoved his freezing hands in pockets he instinctively knew existed. Something crumpled under his fingers. He withdrew a second piece of paper, this less ragged than the first.

_Molly,_

_I do not know if you will wake up. I do not know if you will remember us or yourself if you do. I do not know if you will want to; you certainly did not before. I do not even know if this thrice blasted coat will be here if you wake._

_I have not got the time to tell you everything you need to know; there are still things that must be done. But I can tell you some things._

_Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. You are a purple tiefling, with red eyes and tattoos. You worship the Moonweaver. You fight with scimitars you once told me are made of carnival glass. You say to only steal from grumpy people. You have magic in your blood that neither you nor I understand. You have a personality the size of the circus where we found you.You are ruthless when necessary, kind when needed. <strike>You are</strike>_

_You are loved._

_Caleb._

He was loved. He was Mollymauk Tealeaf and he was loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends it is i, your intermittent author. i had this written essentially as soon as the first chapter was finished but i thought it was too short to post and i had to do some research for the next bit. so i waited but i feel bad about how long its taking (school! yay!) so im posting it anyway now. tldr: sorry its short, enjoy.

He walked.

The journey was not easy. The road was visible only as ruts in the snow, the tracks of wagons he did not encounter. He chose to follow them in the direction he deemed to be south. He thought perhaps he was originally heading north, but north meant colder and with nothing but the coat on his back and glass swords at his hips, he didn’t like his chances. He trudged through snow that turned to slush under his feet. Mollymauk’s boots were not totally waterproof and by the end of the first day, he had blisters on his heels. He only found out when he took his boots off to warm his frozen toes by the miserable fire he’d managed to start.

He ate what little game he could find. The animals in the area were wary of him, and it took him hours of standing still amongst the trees for any to come near. He speared a hare that came to investigate the strange colourful tree that appeared in its territory. He felt a little guilty for it, but the hunger in his belly soon drove it from his head.

To keep his mind occupied and off his hurts, he reread his notes as he walked. Soon he had them memorised, down to the water stains and the way the author’s hand had slipped on the ‘y’ of his name. 

The holes in his mind troubled him. He could remember some things with utter clarity (walking through a sunny field, the sound of a tambourine) and others not at all (what had happened? Why was his body littered with scars?). Mostly, memories presented themselves as dimly lit visions that were oddly muffled, as though heard through water. Some faded as the days went and he clung to them, afraid to lose anything.

More than anything, he was afraid of losing his hope. There were people out there, people who he loved and loved him. He was going to find them. He had to find them. But yet a sly voice whispered in the back of his head _they’re not yours to find. They buried you. They left you_. When the voice grew too loud, he took to saying their names aloud. It gave him comfort, evoked those soft, distant sensations of love.

“Yasha. Jester. Nott. Fjord. Beauregard. Caleb.”

After three days slugging through the wet, cold snow, Mollymauk saw his first signs of civilisation. A town, perched around a mountain, puffing black smoke into the air. The promise of warmth and real food spurred him on and he came into the outskirts of it just as dusk began to fall. 

The buildings there were strange and metallic. Fields cordoned off by tall metal fences, held strange devices. The workers, mostly gnomish, paid no mind to him, except to eye him suspiciously if he came too close. 

Just as he was deciding to wander closer and get their attention, a deafening sound rent the air. He jumped half out off his skin, hands instinctively going to his blades. The workers didn’t attack or run around screaming. They simply dropped their tools, and started streaming out of their respective workplaces. They all seemed to be heading up, towards the path that criss-crossed its way up the mountain.

“Oi!” a voice behind him shouted. “Purple one!”

That’s me, he realised, glancing at his lavender hands. An older gnome hurried towards him.

“Some show you lot put on! Drinking us out of the title and leaving town before we could have a rematch! Tell your crew, you’re on tonight at the Hour of Honour.”

He turned to leave and Molly lurched after him.

“Wait, please! You know me?” The words felt clumsy in his mouth. The gnome sized him up with a wary eye.

“Aye. It was me and my crew you lot beat out for the title.”

“My lot? The Mighty Nein?”

“That’s what ye called yerselves. You alright there? Starting early?”

Molly shook his head, like he was ridding flies.

“Have they been through here?”

“No, took off three weeks ago, haven’t seen hide nor hair since. Ye were with them, ye should know.”

Mollymauk smiled ruefully, dredging up some half remembered charm.

“That I should, my friend.”

“Look are ye coming to the rematch or not?”

“Not tonight, I’ve uh. We’ve things to do.”

“Sure.” The gnome looked suspicious again but Mollymauk flashed him a grin and a wink and he grumbled on his way.


End file.
